


All Trolls Used to Go to Heaven

by PriestessOfNox



Category: Trolls (2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24657094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PriestessOfNox/pseuds/PriestessOfNox
Summary: Loosely based on the "All Dogs Go to Heaven" movie and "The Wish List" by Eoin Colfer. Takes place right after the first Trolls movie. Creek dies with Chef but doesn't go to Hell like he thought. Instead he meets Poppy's mother and learns the truth about the Troll Tribes and the Pop Royal Family that has him stealing extra time back on Earth to try and set things right.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 9





	1. Not Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired after watching "All Dogs Go to Heaven" for the first time in a long time since it was recently added to Netflix and the idea wouldn't leave me alone. I'm still hoping to continue "Lean on Me" at some point but I'll take the inspiration where I can get it. The rating, ships and tags will get updated as this goes along, since at this point its a very broad concept.

It was not the fall that killed him.

When that hill creature swallowed them up, Creek was barley able to let out a scream before Chef, in her own panic, squeezed her fist and the air out of Creek, something in his chest possibly even breaking before the world was no more.

Or rather, his life was no more.

When Creek opened his eyes again, it was quiet. Almost suspiciously quiet, like the lack of noise you would notice before someone leapt out to shout 'Surprise'. Yet there was no where for anyone to leap out from.

Instead of the inside a digestion track, Creek found himself someplace white. The sky was white. The ground, though soft like a pile of cotton balls, was white. Everything was flat and seemed to go on forever without breeze or smells or sounds. It wasn't what he thought hell would look like.

"It's not heaven," a voice pipped up from behind Creek, almost guessing what Creek had been thinking.

When he turned, Creek was surprised to see a vaguely familiar female troll, not much older than he was. She was a rosy pink with red hair, blue eyes and a darker pink nose, wearing unsurprisingly, white robes.

With a quick glance, Creek notes his normally yellow pants had become white as well, "I wasn't expecting it to be".

The woman seemed amused, "You lead a pretty good life until a couple of days ago. You think one mistake would send you to Hell?"

"One rather large mistake," Creek countered, her smile making her familiarity only grow, "Do I know you?"

"Yes, though you were rather young when I was eaten," the woman confirmed, the smile not leaving her face.

"Queen Lily," Creek swallowed, finally recognizing her from the portrait in the royal pod, his memories of her in life rather vague. He remembers he her being a sweet and kind though, so, "If this isn't Heaven, why are you here? What is this place?"

"Purgatory," answered Lily.

"Purgatory?!" sputtered Creek.

Nodding, Lily walked away and just seemed to disappear, as if going around a corner. Her head popped back, a moment later, "Aren't you coming?"

Stepping forward, Creek could not see where Lily had stepped to vanish like that. In an attempt not to walk into her, he tried to walk just to the left but walked into nothing, nothing feeling like a solid wall. He felt the sensation of hitting it but, none of the pain he would have associated with such an act.

"Try again," said Lily, "More to the right".

This time Creek walked through a undiscernible doorway into, well, another room, that also seemed endless but this one had things in it at least. There was a big crystal ball in a wooden stand, and a map hanging onto thin air.

"So, Purgatory," Lily clicked her tongue, running her fingers over her crystal ball, "I can watch the living world with this but I can't see everything. Did Peppy ever tell you about the other Troll Tribes?"

"There are other Troll Tribes?" Creek felt the need to summon Smidge to shout one of her patented 'oh my gawd's at the revelation.

"That would be a no," Lily shook her head and suggested to the map, just floating there, "There are six main Troll Tribes, each based on a different kind of music. There's us, the Pop Trolls, and then there's Techno, Classical, Country, Funk and Rock," she pointed them out on the map as she spoke their names, "Other music, and other tribes, are branches off or combinations of one of the six."

"Why doesn't anyone know about this?" Creek asked, stepping closer to the map for a better look.

"Because the we didn't want to get anyone's hopes up for a rescue that wasn't coming," Lily explained, "You see the Tribes used to be one big tribe that celebrated all the different kinds of music together and each music was represented by a string. When I married Peppy, he told me that overtime the different genres started to fight so their elders each took their string, and the Trolls under that string, to go their separate ways and make their own kingdoms. The elder of the Pop Trolls become the first King of our tribe."

"This is a fascinating history lesson, really, but what does that have to do with your being in purgatory?" asked Creek.

Not saying anything, Lily lead Creek to another undetectable side room and had him peek in. In that room was a never-ending row of pink coffins, "All the Pop Troll Royals are cursed to purgatory. For you see, the story the Royals know in life is not the truth. The first Pop King led and attempt to take control over all music, breaking up the tribes when the other elders took their strings and ran."

"But you're royal by marriage" Creek argued weakly, unable to take his eyes off the pink coffins. He could almost see the outline of the body of the closest one but he dared not go closer.

Lily shrugged, "I guess that doesn't matter with curses."

Managing to tare his eyes away, Creek turned to Lily, "What about Poppy? Surely her aura is too pure to ever be stuck here."

"Doesn't matter, all the Royals will come here when they die," Lily suggested to the coffins again, "And she'll be here alone. Whether it's me or Peppy, we'll only have enough time to tell her the truth of our ancestors before we're pulled into one of those coffins to spend the rest of eternity not sleeping, not dreaming, not awake. Just existing for the rest of eternity." She paused and turned to Creek, "I guess she won't be alone at least; she'll have you to keep her company since you're not bound by the curse. Just one heinous act to keep you out of heaven and a good life before to keep you out of hell."

Something told Creek that he didn't have a stomach anymore, because he was sure that if he did, he'd be sick all over the perfectly white floor by now, "She hates me".

"It's Poppy," countered Lily, "If she can forgive the Bergens, she will forgive you, especially with all the time she'll have with you until the death of the next royal takes her place."

Each time Creek tried to take a deep breath, he couldn't. Though he could talk, he couldn't breathe. He had nothing to help him calm down, "No, there has to be something that can be done. Something to fix this. Poppy can't be stuck here, not with me, especially not after everything. All this quiet and nothingness would drive her mad."

Walking away from the coffins, Lily shook her head, "By the time anyone knows the truth they're dead. Nothing can be done."

"But if they knew and weren't dead, could something be done?" Creek followed her.

Again, Lily shrugged, "I don't know. I guess since breaking up the tribe brought on the curse, getting them back together could break the curse," She sighed, "But they've been their own kingdoms for generations, it doubtful that they'd want to unite under one leadership again."

Though he couldn't breathe, sort of curious as to how Lily sighed, at least Creek could pace. It's true, no one would give up their own kingdom and culture to mash together without a hostile takeover and that could result in a worse sentence then purgatory. He looked up at the map; their environments alone were rather different from the forest, to the ocean, to mountains and desert and is that an actual volcano?

Shaking his head, Creek wondered what could make such a diverse bunch of Trolls come back together after so long apart. What could reunite-wait a minute.

"What if the tribes don't have to reunite under one leadership?" asked Creek, running his hands over the felt map. "What if they just, came together?"

Lily did that head hilt that Poppy does when she's confused, "For what, a party?"

"Exactly," Creek found himself smiling, "What Troll can resist a party?"

Thinking it over, Lily nodded, "It could work but we're dead, we can't tell anyone to send out the invitations."

Surprisingly Creek's hug time bracelet chimed, amazing him that it still worked here. That means it's been, for sure, less than an hour since his death.

"I haven't been dead long," said Creek, "I could go back and tell- no, no one would listen to me anymore. I could go to the other tribes, they don't know me, and invite them to the party on Poppy's behalf."

Sighing, Lily reached up and, from nothing, pulled a string or something that brought down a whole bunch of floating cloaks.

There were sun dials, sand hour glasses, wrist watches, cuckoo clocks, stop watches, grandfather clocks and pocket watches all around them. And with them came noise, the sound of ticking, time going by surrounded them.

Never in his life did Creek welcome such a simple sound as he did now.

Lily walked around the clocks, humming and eying each one she passed until she came across a pocket watch on a blue ribbon, making it look like it should be a necklace rather than go in your pocket, "This is your life Creek, it has stopped. So, there's no going back".

Creek reached for it, "Can't you just rewind it?"

Smacking his hand, Lily frowned at him, "No. Creek, you're in purgatory. If you went back, when you die again, you would go to hell. Is that what you want? To go to hell?"

Biting his tongue, Creek looked beyond the clocks, at the white, at the silence that he knew was out there, beyond the still ticking clocks.

"It's too quiet here," Creek spoke after some time, "And if it's driving me nuts, Poppy would go stir crazy. Not to mention the lack of social interaction, fun and excitement, the parties that Poppy lives for." Knowing that he could speak, he was still relieved when he could still sing, "We need Brazil, the throb, the thrill

We've never been there, but someday we will."

Holding out his hand, Creek pulled Lily into dance, the Queen looking thrilled and Creek wondered if she has spent this entire time since her death without such simple joys, "Adventure and danger," he winked, "love from a stranger."

Rolling her eyes, Lily lightly hit Creek's arm but continued to dance with him, not noticing that as they turned, Creek grabbed his pocket watch with his hair.

Creek continued to sing, "Let me be surprised.

'Today there's sun, they said there'd be snow

When all said and done, it's fun not to know

What keeps my heart humming

Is guessing what's coming

Let me be surprised."

Dancing away from the crystal ball, Creek hopped that distance would keep Lily from noticing what he was up to, "Oh, ain't it great."

"Ain't it great," Lily sang in return.

"When fate lets you wait

The world seems mirthless

You feel worthless

And suddenly there's a big

Dessert on your plate," Creek continued to sing and dance with the Queen, glad that he wasn't running them into any of the not-there walls.

Harmonizing Lily sang, "Oh, Creek, please remember

Down there's a world of Bergen claws,

And unresolved scars, broken dreams

And out of reach stars."

Something told Creek that Lily knew something more then she was letting on but he wasn't ready to give up on an unknown, "But it isn't over, not for this rover

I don't like to steal, but I don't buy this deal."

The line made Lily frown, turning a little to look back at the clocks that they left behind, letting go of Creek's hands to get a better look.

Creek continued to sing softly to himself, dropping the watch from his hair to his hand, behind his back, "In 'bout three seconds, she will have realized

And she's gonna be."

Turning back to Creek, Lily frowning more at Creek having his hands behind his back, "Creek."

Keeping his hands behind him, Creek began to rewind the clock as he sang, "Wait'll you see

She's gonna be

Surprised!"

Just as Lily reached for him, Creek felt a yank, like he was being pulled backward. And as he fell, the white disappeared into black but he could still see her face as she screamed after him, looking more afraid than angry.

=====================================================================

Air almost burned when Creek breathed again, wondering if it was because he had recently been dead or the heated fumes around him which made him gag and cough. His entire body hurt, still wrapped in Chef's fist, even though it was no longer gripping him. With some grunting and pushing he was able to push the fingers away from and wobblily get to his feet.

The belly of the hill beast was dark, yet slightly illuminated by the green digestive acid all around him. Just enough light to look down at Chef's corpse, putrid and decomposing below him as her body was broken down to nourish the beast.

As much as he tried to hold it in, Creek vomited what little was in his stomach. He couldn't even remember the last time he ate. His last proper meal was before the party and though he recalls Chef offering him something after he agreed to sell out his tribe, he can't remember if he actually took and ate it, almost as nauseated then as he is now.

When dry heaves lessened into coughs and Creek could properly breath again, He looked around for a way out. There was no point in coming back if he was just going to get digested again along with the Bergen he refused to look at but was sure he could smell.

Looking down at his hand, Creek blinked at the pocket watch still there. He knew that he had been holding it when he was pulled back into life but he hadn't thought it would make the trip back with him. Then again, it was good that it did, otherwise Lily could have stopped the ticking again the moment he left it pocket.

At first Creek was going to put it in his pocket but no, it was too important to risk it falling out. His hair, while safer, still held a certain risk. Instead he slipped it over his head, wearing it as a necklace before looking upwards.

There wasn't much to grip onto but Creek managed to use his hair to pull himself up a little bit at a time. Each ledge was slippery and he almost fell twice but eventually he reached the top, which looked like a dirt ceiling.

Trying to get the beat to open, Creek whipped it with his hair but didn't see so much as a twitch. He then clawed at it and though it didn't open, a bit crumbled away.

Once he was sure he wouldn't fall once he started to use both hands, Creek began to dig upwards, dirt falling onto his face and into his hair but he couldn't relent, not now. Eventually he saw light and widened the hole enough so he could wiggle through, absolutely filthy from top to bottom but panting in fresh air that never smelt so good.

Though it has been night when Creek died, it was day now. Off in the distance, he could hear music and words he couldn't quite make out. Still he was sure it was a different song from before, so the Pop Trolls and Bergens must still be partying.

That's good, it would be a while before anyone head home then. That would give him a head start.

Grasping the pocket watch around his neck, Creek looked towards Bergen Town, pretending that he could see Poppy from such a distance, "This time, I really am doing it for you".


	2. Pop Village

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired to continue by Creek Week happening on tumbr Feb 22-28:
> 
> Monday: How do you prefer Creek? Redeemed or as a villain? Do whatever you want!: Redemption
> 
> Tuesday: Let your imagination guide you and show us an AU about Creek
> 
> Wednesday: Show us your favorite headcanon from our favorite guru
> 
> Thursday: Creek as a rock troll? Creek as a classic troll? Creek as a country troll? Imagine Creek in another tribe
> 
> Friday: Do you have an OTP with Creek? Let us see it!
> 
> Saturday: Angst = Character Suffering. Can you imagine Creek suffering from some situation?
> 
> Sunday: Creek singing a song of your choice

Music still playing in the background, though getting quitter the further he got from Bergen Town, Creek picked at the dirt covering his skin and hair. He was getting no further with the dirt than he as from the party, even though he felt like he had been walking for hours. If he was going to get back before the others, he needed a way to travel faster.

Sitting in some tall grass, Creek stayed silent and waited, watching the creatures of the woods move about. Just when he was about to give up hope that nothing in this forest wouldn’t love to have him for lunch, he spotted a large, fuzzy beetle munching on some clover.

Once Creek had a bouquet of his own clover, he approached the beetle, moving slow so not to scare it away. When he had the beetle’s attention, he tossed a few clovers, enticing it closer until it was eating out of Creek’s hands and allowing Creek to pet its head, reminding him a little of Suki’s Wooferbug.

With his hair, Creek swung himself up onto the beetle’s back but far enough up so not to interfere with the beetle’s wings. Patting the beetle’s head, it ignored him until it was finished eating, then took to the sky.

Though he had flown via beetle before, it was normally with his small beetle friend, Brother, where he was carried by his hair. Directing a larger beetle where to go while riding it took some work, nearly falling off several times, before finally going into the direction that he needed to go and allow him to finally breath easily again.

It was odd, breathing. Even though his time with Queen Lily had been less than an hour, he somehow grew accustomed to not breathing. More than once he had to remind himself to keep breathing because he needed it again and hoped it would come back into background habit soon enough.

When the music was no longer a hum in the background, Creek thought about all that he needed to do. To, hopefully, save Poppy’s soul, he had bring the tribes together and while he had little doubt that they would turn down a party invitation, he had to find them first.

The map Creek saw with Queen Lily was too vague in his memory to try to go off of. He would have to find another copy and the only place that might come close would be King Peppy’s pod. Odd how he still felt a certain bit of dread of going to his ruler’s pod after already dooming him and his people to be eaten but hopefully he wouldn’t be caught and, even if he was, it wouldn’t be worse than any punishment they would already have for him due to his betrayal.

Then, if Creek was successful, what would he do? He wouldn’t be able to return to Troll Village, or, more accurately, Pop Village as he knew it to be now. He might be able to go live with one of the other Troll Tribes, but he’s sure his misdeeds would be outed at the party and he wouldn’t be welcomed with them either. More than likely he would have to take a page out of Branch’s book and find a place to live on his own somewhere.

Or he could just stop the watch.

That thought would have Creek gripping the beetle’s fuzz and breathing hard, almost as if he had forgotten to breath for a bit again. Would he really do that? Just turn it off and die after everything he did to survive?

Really as long as he had the watch, Creek could live forever. He could continue to wind t and survive anything. Who knows, maybe he could find beings that were like Trolls but would never come in contact with them and become a part of their community without the fear of his past catching up to him?

But if he lived, could he live with it? Even if no one else knew what he had done, he would know. Even if there was no heaven for him, or even purgatory, could he escape hell for all of eternity?

Then again, why is Creek even thinking of life afterwards? He’s very likely to die in his quest to find the other tribes or when he eventually gets caught. He can hope for the best but it would be better to plan for the worse, and leave the rest up to fate.

By the time the beetle landed in Pop Village, the sun was starting to set and there was much Creek had to do before he set out even though there was nothing, he wanted more than to collapse on his bed, sleep and pray it had all been a bad dream.

Pushing aside his exhaustion, Creek climbed into his pod and got to work. After wrapping his watch in a pillow, Creek took a quick shower to get rid of the dirt and lingering smell of death and stomach acid, scrubbing his hair until his scalp hurt. Once dressed, he packed a bag for his travels since his hair wouldn’t be able to hold everything he would need; food, water, camping equipment, spare clothes and other things he thought of along the way.

Next came the hard part, writing a will. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if anyone would want anything from him after everything but at least they would be small offerings. Music collection for Suki, cooking books for Biggie, tea sets for Satin and Chenille, mediation crystals for Smidge, board games for Cooper, quilted blankets for Fuzzbert, remaining books and candles for his cousin Cybil, family photos and mementoes for his cousin Flint, and for Poppy…

What could he possibly give Poppy? He had scrapbook supplies that he got gotten for her birthday but that didn’t seem like enough. There was the glass flower paperweight she liked. The couple of necklaces he sometimes wore, but that felt insulting to throw jewelry at her. Maybe his pan flute? No, she wouldn’t want anything his mouth touched. His sitar would work better.

In the end, Poppy got a long list of things but it just didn’t feel like enough. At the bottom he wrote “I’m Sorry”. There was more he could say, some explanation, but that’s all that he could write.

Though his hair was still damp and unusable, Creek put his watch back around his neck, grabbed his pack, and looked around his home one last time, before climbing down the ladder outside his pod and to the ground. He knew Peppy’s pod also had a ladder, due to the elder troll’s hair not being as reliable a it used to be.

Walking through the village was eerie, so dark and silent with all of its occupants gone, because of him. A snap of a twig from some creature in the hard promoted him to speed the rest of the way to Peppy’s pod, climbing quickly up the ladder and inside.

Leaving his bag by the door, Creek didn’t know where to start. Maybe an office or a library? Where would the old King leave a map that he wouldn’t want anyone else to see?

Just as Creek was going through the first book he found, he heard a wiping sound right before something soft wrapped around him, tightly pinning down his arms and hair to his sides and back, then yanking him backwards onto the floor.

Oh no, Creek had been caught and he had barely gotten started yet. He tried to sit up but the purple hair wouldn’t let him so he twisted to look at the teal troll behind him. Familiar looking but not someone he recognized. Still maybe they could be reasoned with.

“I can explain,” Creek stopped when the troll scoffed.

“Yeah, I’d like to hear that one,” the teal troll crossed his arms. The colors were unfamiliar but there was no mistaking that voice.

“Branch?” Creek’s jaw dropped, looking up and down, blinking and wishing that he could rub his eyes, “You have color!”

Darker color, lit up Branch’s cheeks, clearing his throat but not responding to the outburst otherwise, “I’m waiting”.

Again, Creek tried to sit up, but Branch’s hair wouldn’t let him, “Could you loosen your grip, please?”

“And give you another chance to stab us in the back,” Branch shook his head, “I don’t think so”.

“Us?” Creek repeated, trying to look behind Branch but not seeing anyone.

“I meant in general,” Brach snapped, “Now explain yourself.”

“It’s complicated and you probably won’t believe me,” Creek admitted.

“Try me,” Branch’s scowl remained the same even with his colors.

“I died,” Creek frowned at Branch’s raised eyebrow but he didn’t interrupt so he continued, “And I met Queen Lily-”

“Queen Lily would not be in Hell,” protested Branch.

“I didn’t go to Hell,” Creek half laughed at Branch’s unamused look, “It surprised me too, but I went to Purgatory. All of the Pop Royal Family-”

“Pop?” asked Branch.

“Are you going to interrupt the whole time, because it’s going to make it take even longer to explain,” Creek rolled his eyes, “Yes, Pop, we’re Pop Trolls. One of six main Troll Tribes, including Techno, Classical, Country, Funk and Rock. There’s lots of tribes in between which are mixtures too, I guess, but the Pop Troll Royal family tried to take over all music and are cursed to afterlife in purgatory for splitting up the tribes as a result.”

“I can see your ancestors doing that, but not Poppy’s,” commented Branch.

“You mean you can see me doing that but not Poppy,” corrected Creek, “We’re different from our families, especially ancestors so far back that we do longer remember when there used to be more trolls out there”.

Branch grumbled something but Creek couldn’t tell if it was begrudging agreement or just an acknowledgment.

“So, I was able to steal the watch of… my life, I guess is the best way to put it, to come back and try to get the tribes back in contact to hopefully break the curse. But to do that I need the map to the other tribes which I hoped Peppy would have,” Creek finished.

Stepping closer, Branch kneeled down to take the watch from around Creek’s neck, keeping Creek still with his hair when he tried to protest, “So you’re trying to tell me that you were will to sell out us all, including Poppy, to be eaten, but you came back to save her soul?”

“I’m sure you don’t care about my reasons but eternal damnation to the sweetest troll to walk the Earth is rather different than simple death,” commented Creek.

“And what happens to you if something happens to this watch?” asked Branch.

“I don’t know,” Creek admitted, “I think I die and go, well, down.”

“Not back to Purgatory?” asked Branch.

“No, Queen Lily says that I could never come back,” said Creek.

Humming, Branch examined the watch, “Then go to Hell,” and pulled up the dial to stop the watch’s ticking.

* * *

**All around Creek was darkness, he could fell himself falling and falling and falling, then hitting the ground hard enough to stop him from screaming. He wasn’t breathing anymore but somehow smoke was still feeling his lungs, making him cough, making him dizzy along with the pain and the extreme heat, searing his skin without being able to see the flames.**

**Then something grabbed him and yanked.**

**Hard.**

* * *

Gasping, Creek coughed up smoke, breathing hard and, with his arms now free, wrapping his arms around himself and curling up. He no longer felt hurt but he ached with memory.

“What the Hell,” Branch whispered, his voice coming back, “What the hell!”

“Exactly,” Creek managed to cough.

Standing from where he had been kneeling, Branch began to pace, running his hands rapidly through his hair, “You were dead. You were actually dead. You weren’t lying. This watch actually controls your life. And Poppy- we have to save Poppy!”

“What do you think I came back for?” Creek groaned and managed to sit up. He was still dizzy but laying down was starting to make him feel nauseous.

“Shut up,” snapped Branch but it had no bite, eying the watch in his hand, “We need to lock this up in the bunker”.

“Anything could happen to it unattended,” protested Creek, “Including it simply winding down. No, that stays with me”.

Grumbling, Branch handed it back to Creek, “There’s not to be something better than just around your neck.”

“It could fall out of a pocket, bag or my hair and I wouldn’t know it until it was too late,” Creek slipped the watch back on, “At least this way I can feel and see it at all times”.

“Fine, it’s your funeral,” Branch winced at his own words, then shook it off, “Lets find this map”.

“You’re going to help me riffle through King Peppy’s underwear drawer?” asked Creek.

“If it comes down to that, you’re doing the riffling, but we’ll tare this pod upside down if we have to. After that, not sure where else to look,” admitted Branch.

“The library would be my next guess,” said Creek, then saw Branch looking bewildered, “What?’

“We have a library?” asked Branch.

“Of course, we have a library,” exclaimed Creek, “Really, you would know that if you came out of your bunker on occasion outside of yelling at everyone.”

“And I turned out to be right,” protested Branch, starting to look around.

“Does it feel good to be right?” asked Creek, returning to the books.

“Shut up,” Branch didn’t bother to turn to glare at him, continuing his search.

They looked throughout the pod for ages, Creek eventually having to riffle through Peppy’s underwear drawer and finding the King’s journal. He and Branch argued on whether or not to read it, since it was rather personal but eventually Branch gave in that it was their last chance to find any clues in the King’s pod.

Sitting together, they did their best to skim over the pages for anything that would help but leave Peppy to as much of his privacy as they could spare. They didn’t not need to know his day-to-day work when he was a prince training to be king, or his crushes along the way before he met his future life.

Luckily Peppy wrote down the Pop Troll version of events when he to be crowned King, along with the strings. But that didn’t help with the map.

They skimmed forward, Creek having remind Branch to continue when they came upon the plans for the original escape from Bergen Town. Shortly after the escape, Peppy wrote down where he hid the string and the scroll detailing the other tribes and, along with the map.

“Oh, the place in the tree with the silver tinsel falls, I know where that is,” Creek sighed, glad to finally have some clue, putting the journal back where he found it and going to grab his pack.

Following, Branch mulled over what they read, “So the Royal Family doesn’t even know the truth about what happened?”

“I’m sure they put a positive spin on the situation and the truth got lost over time,” Creek started to climb down the ladder.

Branch scoffed, climbing down as well, “Sounds about right.” He walked with Creek in silence for a little bit before commenting, “After we get that map, we need to go to my bunker so I can pack”.

“You’re coming with me?” asked Creek.

“Your life and Poppy’s soul rests on a pocket watch that you’re wearing as a freaking necklace,” commented Branch, “No way am I letting you screw this up, for Poppy’s sake”.

“Your confidence is overwhelming,” Creek sighed but really, he shouldn’t have expected anything less. He and Branch hadn’t been on decent terms since their early trollhood.

When they got to the tinsel falls, Branch went straight to the scrolls and Creek went to the tinsel fall, amazes as it parted and her saw the one stringed harp, exactly where Peppy’s journal said it would be. A single pluck filled the room with a heavenly voice harmonizing and magical pink glitter drifting from a musical note before it faded away.

“Amazing,” Creek said breathlessly, turning to Branch and speaking louder, “Do you think we should bring this with us?”

“Besides Peppy, we’re the only ones who know where it is,” said Branch, going through the big scroll at the table to find the map, “It’s safer here.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Creek stepped away from the harp, watching the tinsel fall return to its normal cascade, hiding the harp and string from sight.

Creek’s hug time bracelet went off.

Branch didn’t turn, “Don’t even think about it”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other Creek Week drabbles will be in a separate story

**Author's Note:**

> Song "Let Me Be Surprised" from "All Dogs Go to Heaven" which was the major factor in inspiring this story and some lyrics were changed to fit the story/characters.


End file.
